


Party Hard Or Die Trying

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian May, Alpha Jim Hutton, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta John Deacon, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Crack, Friends as Family, Friendship, Happy Ending, Holidays, Humor, Karaoke, M/M, Mild Smut, Omega Freddie Mercury, Omega Phoebe Freestone, Omega Roger Taylor (Queen), Omega Veronica Tetzlaff, Partying, Self Confidence, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: Life has its ups and downs, its stresses- particularly when you're an overworked Omega and no end to the rut you're stuck in, in sight.When his parents visit, they accidentally give Freddie the idea to escape on holiday with his friends for a week. Just a week, a short getaway to de-stress.A week that will be filled with more chaos than even he would have expected.OR: drinks, shenanigans, sex, and fighting against gender-roles, Omega style
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor & Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, Joe Fanelli/Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff, Peter "Phoebe" Freestone & Freddie Mercury
Comments: 142
Kudos: 50





	1. Operation Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BambiRex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambiRex/gifts).



> Ya'll can blame BambiRex for this, it was her suggestion first 😂
> 
> In this story, Freddie's parents (particularly Jer) will be based on Monica and Ross's parents from Friends. The title is inspired by a Bob's Burgers episode title ("Work Hard or Die Trying Girl")

Freddie hated when his parents came to visit.

Maybe that sounded harsh, but it was true. As soon as they announced they were coming over, he felt nothing but dread. He rushed around, double-checking every last detail in the house, from the smallest nook and cranny to the big details- were the floors polished enough? Were the plants watered? Were the windows clean? Had they gotten all the cat fur off the sofa? Was _Maeve_ clean? Well, as clean as a hyper toddler could ever be.

Jim didn’t look too chuffed either. Freddie certainly didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like they’d _asked_ if they could come over, they’d _said_ so, a massive pet-peeve of Jim’s if ever there was one, but nothing Jim and Freddie ever said seemed to get through to Jer and Bomi. Jer would tut, “Don’t be silly,” at Freddie and Bomi would roll his eyes, plainly not listening and then proceed to talk about something else entirely once Freddie was done.

_The perks of being an Omega,_ Freddie thought with a scowl. _Eternally being treated like a five-year-old._ He set aside his half-finished painting and went back downstairs to make sure the living room was in order.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was routine by this point. Bomi would shake Jim’s hand, give Maeve a pat on the head while barely looking at her, give Freddie a tight-lipped smile and make idle small talk. Jer ran a critical eye over everything, her hawk-eyes sure to pick out some small, overlooked flaw.

She straightened a small painting on the wall and flattened Freddie’s hair down, smoothing it against his cheeks.

“You know, your ears aren’t your best feature, dear?” she asked. 

“Mama-” Freddie began to protest, but she waved a dismissive hand.

“Oh don’t fuss,” she said and sat next to Bomi. “Anyway, darling, did I tell you about Namir? Poor thing was on holiday and broke his leg! He’d only been there a day and fell straight down the stairs! And the local doctors were of no help at all, he was waiting _ages-_ ”

Freddie zoned out, giving noncommittal hums and holding Maeve on his lap. Jim came back in with the tea tray (they both ignored Bomi’s pointed frowns) and Freddie let his thoughts wander.

A holiday. God knew he needed one. He loved Maeve dearly, but she was a handful; business was slow with his paintings, and _Queen_ weren’t exactly going anywhere. He was tired of being stuck at home all day. He was tired of being turned down for every job he applied to. He was tired of being turned away from interviews for being an Omega, and he was damn tired of his parents barging into his home and treating him like a school boy in disgrace.

The thought of _Queen_ made him think of his friends. Specifically, he thought of Phoebe and Roger.

Roger, who’d been under more stress than ever at work, trying to work full time while being a single parent. Roger, whose colleagues constantly harassed him for being single with a child. Roger, who’d been fighting against rumours and accusations ever since he fell pregnant at barely nineteen. Who’d been snapping and growling more than usual, picking small fights and barely ever smiling.

And Phoebe. Phoebe, with an emotionally abusive asshole for a husband, who hadn’t had a moment’s peace since he was seventeen and first got with the troll. Phoebe, who “wasn’t allowed” to work; who was left alone all day with four children, always exhausted and run off his feet. Phoebe, sweet as sugar Phoebe, who always looked longingly at ads for holidays in Spain or Florida, who’d never gotten to travel.

Freddie smiled to himself as an idea started to form.

“Farrokh!” Jer frowned at him. “Are you listening?”

“I hear you loud and clear, Mama,” Freddie said flatly. “Loud and clear.”

Jim, he knew, wouldn’t be averse to this. Nor would Roger. No, the biggest problem would be convincing Phoebe to go along.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger was barely in the door when his mobile rang. _Freddie,_ his screen said, followed by two crown emojis. 

“Hey, Fred.”

“Darling, we need a holiday,” Freddie said. He could hear the telly in the background, Maeve watching Thumbelina again.

Roger scoffed. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” he said. His daughter, Felicity, looked up from her homework and waved. Winifred was helping her with her maths again. Roger gave Felicity a big grin and a thumbs up, mouthing _“Be right back,”_ as he went to the living room for some privacy.

“I think we need some Omega time,” Freddie continued. Fondly, he added, “As Pheebs always calls it.”

“Well, I suppose when summer hits-”

“No, Roggie, I mean now.”

_“Now?”_

“Now.”

“How much have you had?”

“Fuck off. I’m looking at flights right now. You, me, Phoebe, and Barcelona. What do you think?”

“I think you’re mental,” Roger laughed. He tapped his foot as he thought it all over. It had been a shit day. A shit week. A shit few months. A shit few _years._

It would still be shit when they came back, he knew that. But didn’t they deserve a break?

“How long are you thinking?” he asked.

“A week,” Freddie said. “There’s a flight next Saturday.”

Freddie was quiet as Roger thought about it. Roger walked up and down, tapping his finger against his leg and biting his lip.

He’d never been away from Felicity for a week before. Freddie had never been away from Maeve for a week before. Phoebe _definitely_ hadn’t been away from his kids for a week- oh _fuck._

“There’s Albert, Fred,” Roger sighed. “Phoebe can’t leave the kids with that bastard, he’s useless. I don’t think he even knows how to change a nappy!”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Freddie said, and Roger swore he could _hear_ the grin in his best friend’s voice. “They won’t be with Albert. Jim’s offered to take them, Veronica’s volunteered to pop in, and Brian said he’ll help too!”

Roger also swore he could hear Freddie wriggle his eyebrows when he said Brian’s name.

Good old Brian May, Felicity’s teacher, the guitarist in their band, and Roger would deny fancying him and his unfairly gorgeous long legs to his dying breath.

“I don’t think Phoebe will agree,” Roger said. He looked around his cramped, messy living room, which he never seemed to have time to properly de-clutter. He grinned. “But I’m in.”

“That’s the spirit, darling!” Freddie’s tone took on a downright _evil_ edge when he added, “Besides, we won’t be giving dear Phoebe a say.”

Laughing, Roger flopped onto the sofa.

“I think I know where this is going,” he said. He remembered a night in college, when John had been pushing himself too hard during exams; he was burned out, near tears and generally a mess- so Freddie and Roger had promptly kidnapped him from his dorm and forced him into a night out.

“I’m sure you do, darling.”

“Kidnapping?”

Freddie snickered like a school child. “Kidnapping.”


	2. The Power of Nagging (Or: How To Get Your Best Friend To Relax)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys kidnap (collect) Phoebe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys nag Phoebe into relaxing for once

It was a usual Saturday morning. Albert had fucked off with his friends as usual, leaving Phoebe with four children: six-year-old Frank, four-year-old Violet, three-year-old Alice and one-year-old Jackson, already fondly known as Jack.

It was routine, but it was still exhausting. He was trying to make breakfast for them all, trying to feed Jack and also trying to keep the elder three at the table. Violet flicked some of her Rice-Crispies at Alice. Alice happily picked them off the table and ate them, but Phoebe had to stop her trying to eat the ones that had fallen on the floor.

Eventually, they were fed. Then there was the battle of trying to dress them; Frank wanted to wear his Superman costume and started crying when Phoebe tried to dress him in a T-shirt and jeans. Alice didn’t want to wear any clothes at all and ran naked from her room, giggling.

Dressing her was a battle and a half in itself. At least Violet and Jack didn’t complain.

Then it was brushing their teeth and taming their hair. Then, finally, Alice settled down with her toy tea set, Violet played with her Barbies; Frank sat on the floor in front of the telly to watch Cartoon Network. Phoebe sat on the sofa with Jack cradled in his lap, half-heartedly watching the shows. It looked like a new version of Scooby Doo.

That was when Roger rang.

“Hey, Pheebs!” Roger said cheerfully. “What’s up?” His voice crackled and wavered; there was a rushing, static type noise.

Phoebe sighed. “You better not be calling me while you’re driving again.”

“Who, me?” Roger’s voice was all false innocence. “Never.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway, got any plans today?”

“Hm, let’s see…” Phoebe tapped his chin, though Roger couldn’t see him. “Ah yes! I’ll be looking after the kids and cleaning the house again.”

“Nope,” Roger said cheerfully. “We’ve got plans.”

Admittedly, Freddie and Roger had clearly been  _ plotting,  _ and in Phoebe’s experience that usually meant chaos. They’d been whispering and giggling together all week.

“I can’t leave the kids, Rog.”

“Sure you can!” Roger’s voice sounded clearer, like he’d stopped driving. Hopefully he had.

There was a knock on the door. Phoebe got up, Jack still in his arms.

“Rog, I  _ can’t.  _ So whatever you’re planning-” He opened the door and stopped speaking. Roger and Freddie stood in the doorway. Jim and Brian were standing by their respective cars. Jim was holding Maeve, who waved eagerly when she saw Phoebe. Brian saluted him with a grin.

“What’s going on?” Phoebe asked.

“We’re having Omega time,” Freddie said, like it should have been obvious. He waved his passport in Phoebe’s face. “We’re going on holiday to be precise.”

Yep, he’d known they were up to something, and he’d known it would be stupid.

“I can’t,” he repeated firmly. “Albert won’t-”

“Oh fu- fudge, Albert,” Roger said, giving Jack a wary glance. The baby just smiled. Roger turned back to Phoebe, hands on his hips. “Jim’s gonna take the kids, the others have all volunteered to help out.” He gestured to Brian and Jim. “They’re gonna drive the kids back to Fred and Jim’s and  _ I’m  _ driving us to the airport.”

“You’re insane,” Phoebe said flatly.

Freddie and Roger exchanged glances. Freddie sighed, eyes downcast.

Then Freddie promptly sprinted past Phoebe into the house and upstairs, shouting “Hello, darlings!” to the kids as he went.

_ “Freddie Hutton, get back here!”  _ Phoebe shouted. He made to go after him, but Roger grabbed him by the arm. For a little guy his grip was surprisingly strong. Probably from all the drumming. The look on his face screamed  _ Don’t You Dare.  _

“We’re going,” he said firmly. “We all need a break-  _ especially  _ you.”

“What do you mean especially me?”

“It means you’ll end up going grey soon if you don’t relax for once in your damn life.”

Phoebe huffed, refusing to look at him. Even if he had a point.

Jim strolled forward, Maeve still in his arms. Brian was behind him, a polite smile on his face.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” Frank asked.

“You’re coming for a sleepover, bud,” Jim told him. Frank’s eyes lit up with interest.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Jim nodded. “Yeah.”

“No,” Phoebe protested.

“Yes,” Roger and Brian said. They both had unbearably smug smiles on their faces.

Freddie came prancing back down the stairs with Phoebe’s suitcase and passport in hand. Phoebe glanced at the passport and frowned.

“How’d you find that so fast?” he asked.

Freddie just smiled sweetly and took Maeve from Jim, who took Phoebe’s suitcase to Roger’s car.

“Best held the children pack, darling,” Freddie said. He gave Phoebe  _ that look:  _ the big, innocent brown eyes and  _ Who, me?  _ smile, sweet as sugar and oh so innocent. If Phoebe didn’t know him he’d have fallen for it.

“Two options, Pheebs,” Roger said, leaning against the doorway. “You can come quietly, or Brian here helps drag you to the car.”

Brian shrugged. His smile was apologetic, but his eyes were glittering with amusement. There was no way the bastard wasn’t enjoying this. How everyone was so convinced that Brian was Mr. Prim And Proper, Phoebe would never understand.

“I’d listen if I were you,” Brian said. “You know what they’re like.”

“Just think of it, darling,” Freddie said, jiggling Maeve. “A whole week in Barcelona to do whatever we want! Drinks, sunshine and a beautiful city- and no Alphas! No offence, Bri.”

“None taken,” Brian said. Jack was trying to reach out for Roger’s hair. Roger smartly stepped back. Maeve was trying to twist around in Freddie’s arms to peer at the telly. Violet and Alice looked up from their respective activities as it registered for them that something was going on. Frank was watching Phoebe expectantly.

Phoebe looked around the house and sighed. It was a mess this morning and there was no denying it. There was also no denying that Albert wouldn’t help clean it, or take care of the kids whenever he deigned to come back.

Phoebe didn’t particularly want to listen to more shouting. 

He thought of the sunshine. He thought of the amazing food. He thought of the bars and sights. Maybe he could even convince Freddie and Roger to visit a museum with him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any sort of break.

Freddie was smirking in triumph already. Roger stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised expectantly. Brian let Jack pull his hair with a long-suffering smile.

Jim rejoined them, watching quietly. 

“Fine,” Phoebe said. He glared at his friends, who grinned right back, completely unapologetic. “But if Albert goes nuts-”

“I’ll handle him,” Jim promised. “I don’t think he’s the balls to try and start on me.”

Phoebe knew that was true.

“Kids,” he said brightly. “Let’s get you packed. You’re going to a sleepover at Uncle Jim’s house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your friends know best, Phoebe; listen to them and their crazy antics


	3. Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get to Barcelona. Jim gets an unpleasant surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of filler type chapter, just showing the trio arriving

Airports always felt weird to Roger. Despite the crowd, the hustle and bustle, something always felt _off._ Clare once showed him a tweet that said time stood still in airports, that they felt like wormholes. He could believe that. 

He texted his mum to let her know they’d gotten to the airport and promising for the tenth time he’d text when they landed in Spain. Winifred, never the most confident texter, merely sent back _“K”_

Roger chuckled and reminded himself to explain to her, again, why Clare accused her texts of being passive-aggressive. 

Phoebe’s anxious voice snapped him back to reality. “This is a bad idea,” Phoebe said. His leg was jiggling. Freddie had to press down on it before Phoebe would stop.

“Oh come on, Pheebs,” Roger said. “No. We’re here. We’re going. You were excited twenty minutes ago!”

“That was before I remembered this is a bad idea,” Phoebe said. “Albert-”

“Doesn’t _matter,_ ” Freddie said firmly. “He doesn’t fit into this, darling. The kids are safe and sound, and _we’re_ going to have a well deserved break!”

“Here, here!” Roger said, raising his beer. Hey, it was five o’clock somewhere- and as John was so fond of saying every time they were in an airport, _“It would be rude not to.”_

“I just-”

“You _just_ need to put that cretin out of your mind,” Freddie said. He gave Phoebe a winning smile. “Come on, darling, I promise we’ll even spend a whole day doing whatever you want! All those historical sites? We can spend a day exploring them. And it will still be quite early when we arrive; once we drop our things off at the hotel, I say we have a wander, enjoy the sunshine and then get plastered. Deal?”

Phoebe frowned, but he didn’t necessarily look angry. Roger thought Phoebe seemed to be mulling it over.

“Deal,” Phoebe eventually said. Beaming, Freddie held his hand out.

“Phone, please.”

Sighing, Phoebe handed his phone over. Freddie promptly turned it off and dropped it into his own bag.

“There,” he said. “Much better.”

As soon as he said it, his own phone buzzed. Roger took one look and winced; it was Jer. He swore she had a sixth sense. A _“my son is having fun, I can’t allow that,”_ sense.

Freddie looked at the text and scowled. He was instantly tense, eyes dark and snarling. Whatever Jer had said, it instantly had Freddie on the defensive- and offensive, truth be told. Just one of her many talents.

Roger kind of hated her. Just a bit.

“Fred?” Roger nudged him until Freddie finally looked up from the blasted phone. Grinning, Roger held his hand out.

For a moment, Freddie just looked at him, but then he smiled; it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He handed his phone over, and Roger turned it off, putting it away in his own bag.

“We’ll turn them back on when we land,” Roger said. “Sound good?”

“Fine by me,” Freddie said. Phoebe rolled his eyes, but nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was only a two-hour flight, so there wasn’t much offered in the way of entertainment, unless you counted watching two kids pelt each other with peanuts. Roger and Freddie put their earphones in while Phoebe read. The kids two rows up began to shriek.

Honestly, Roger was just glad there were no kids directly in front or behind them, and the kids across from them continued to throw peanuts at each other. Their mum looked exhausted. Roger recognised that dead-eyed look all too well.

If Roger thought airports were just _weird,_ then planes made him grumpy. The lack of room, the stale air and lack of anything to do drove him nuts. If he could at least move around it wouldn’t be so annoying.

The kids ahead began to shriek louder, yelling that they hated each other. Miraculously, the man behind them had dozed off despite the noise and began to snore.

Roger turned his music up.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Once they were outside the airport, the warm air hit them in the face. Stretching his arms and legs, Roger grabbed his phone and let Winifred know they’d arrived safely, receiving another _“K”_ in response, but with a smiling emoji. 

Freddie turned his phone back on, texted Jim, ignored the _five_ texts from Jer and peered around for the taxi rink. Phoebe instantly seemed more relaxed, turning towards the sunshine and beaming like a satisfied cat.

Honestly, Roger was in the same boat. Just being in the sunshine, knowing he didn’t have to worry about work and his _(dickhead)_ coworkers on Monday made him feel better. There would be no sideways glances, no innuendos, no slut-shaming. He had a week of fun with his friends to look forward to.

The scenery was gorgeous, but he’d expected that. Still, he tried to snap photos as the taxi sped along, towards the hotel.

The hotel itself wasn’t anything majorly impressive, but it was pretty and comfortable; it was five-stories high, painted white, with bright blue window frames and big glass doors at the front. A solid three stars. The lobby had fairy lights hanging on the walls, with so many plants that Roger knew Jim would be in gardener heaven. Freddie peered happily at all the paintings, already rattling off about the various artists, while Roger got them checked in.

“Ooh, look, a Da Vinci!” Freddie said. He stopped in front of it, rapt; Phoebe had to grab him by the arm and drag him to the lift.

Their room was exactly what the website had advertised: it had three single beds, cream walls and a polished wood floor with a red rug by the vanity. The view though, was absolutely gorgeous; bright, colourful streets, parks, and Roger could spot a view of the historical buildings that Phoebe was sure to want to see; churches and museums. He wondered how far most of the historical and world heritage sites were. They hadn’t bothered with renting a car, and truth be told Roger didn’t want to waste much money on public transport.

He couldn’t see the beach, but he was determined to drag them down there as soon as possible.

And to the bars. _Definitely_ to the bars.

“Alright, lads,” Roger said, turning to face them, clapping his hands together. “Where to first?”

“Anywhere,” Freddie said, lounging on the bed nearest the window. “Let’s find somewhere gorgeous to relax and enjoy the sunshine.”

“Sounds good to me,” Phoebe said, already beginning to unpack.

Freddie’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the notification, rolled his eyes and ignored it.

“Your mum again?” Roger guessed. Freddie nodded.

“What’s got her in a tizzy now?” Phoebe asked.

“Let me guess,” Roger said with a smirk. “You wore a pair of shorts outdoors!”

Freddie’s smile was sheepish. “Well...Actually…” He pushed himself up on his small hands and shrugged. “She’s invited herself over tomorrow.”

Phoebe winced but Roger burst out laughing.

“Oh fuck!” Roger flopped down next to Freddie. “Poor Jim!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jim looked at the text from Jer and turned to Brian imploringly. “Help,” he said. The kids rushed around the back garden; the cats watched in disdain.

Brian didn’t look too keen but, bless him, he nodded. “I’ll be over first thing,” he said. Hands on his hips, he added, “She does know Fred isn’t here, right?”

“Ah,” Jim said. “About that- no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Jim 😂


	4. The Game Plan (Preparing To Deal With Your In-Laws)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Jim and John work on their game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: my friends made me a playlist called "If A Man Talks Shit Then You Owe Him Nothing" and it's what I listen to while writing this story 😁 (So much Lizzo...)

The only real hiccup of the day was when Albert rang.

“Mind explaining why the fuck Jim’s sayin’ you’re off in Spain?” he demanded. 

“I’m with Freddie and Roger,” Phoebe explained, struggling to keep his voice even and calm. “It’s just a week-”

“A  _ week!?  _ Fuck’s sake, do you expect me to mind those kids by myself!?” He was loud enough that, even though he wasn’t on speaker, Freddie and Roger could hear him perfectly. Phoebe could tell, because his friends were looking increasingly pissed. Freddie looked ready to commit murder.

“Jim’s looking after them,” Phoebe said. His voice wavered and he hated it. “The others will be there to help.”

Albert scoffed. “Like any of them know what they’re doing. So, which of those idiots put this idea in your head? That slut, Taylor?”

Roger went to snatch the phone. Phoebe barely held him back.

“It was all our idea,” Phoebe lied. “And I’ve told you to stop calling him that.”

“And I’ve told  _ you  _ I’ll call him what I like. Whatever. You go off and be selfish as usual, while I work my arse off.” He hung up. He immediately texted,  _ I expect an apology when you’re home. _

And Phoebe was just- he was  _ angry.  _ Albert could call Phoebe what he wanted, but what right did he have to call his friends names? How could he say their friends couldn’t manage the kids, when those friends were kind and trustworthy- and, what’s more, had children of their own?

Albert never looked after them. How could he make any judgement?

It had only been a few hours. A few, blessed hours of quiet and sunshine, and now Phoebe was left feeling sick and angry.

“Pheebs?” Freddie and Roger were watching him with concern.

Hand shaking, Phoebe texted back.

_ You’ll be waiting a while then. _

He turned his phone off.

“Well…” He shook his head, giving a breathless, hopeless laugh. “That was stupid of me.”

They looked confused, which was only fair as they didn’t see the text. 

“I hate him,” Phoebe admitted, not for the first time. But this time, they didn’t tell him to leave Albert; they didn’t give their usual speeches about deserving better. They looked so solemn.

And then Freddie linked their arms.

“First order of business,” he said. “Let’s get drunk.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


At long last, the kids were settled down. Violet, Alice and Frank were all in the guest room, with very little wriggle room in the double bed. Jack was in Maeve’s old cot by Jim’s bed (and that had been a nightmare to assemble, even with John’s help).

Jim, John and Brian sat downstairs, sipping coffee and discussing their game plan. John had brought spare baby-monitors from his and Veronica’s house, and Jim could hear Jack snoring.

“I’ll be over first thing tomorrow,” Brian promised.

“Jer’s going to  _ flip,” _ Jim groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You know what she’s like- and then she’ll tell Bomi and then they  _ both  _ won’t shut up. They never want Fred to do  _ anything. _ ”

“I don’t envy you,” John said with a sweet smile. Jim flipped him off. He was resisting the urge to simply pour a shit-tonne of whiskey into his coffee and call it quits. That sounded like a nice plan to him.

“Here’s how it’ll go: first, Jer will rant about how irresponsible Freddie is for ‘ _ abandoning his baby,’ _ ” Jim predicted. “Then she’ll insist I can’t look after Maeve alone. She’ll  _ definitely  _ insist I can’t manage five kids, even with you lads helping. When I turn down her ‘help,’ she’ll get teary-eyed and complain to Bomi. She’ll call and text Freddie non-stop with the same rants and guilt-trips she’s used since he was five.”

In an eerily good mimicry of Jer, John spoke up, gesturing elaborately with his hands, nose in the air; “Oh  _ darling,  _ must you be so  _ difficult?  _ I’m only trying to help, there’s no need to sulk!”

Jim pointed at him with a nod and gulped down the last of his coffee. “Word for word, I bet you anything,” he said. He frowned at his empty cup and wished for whiskey. 

But if the thought of handling Maeve while hungover was bad enough, the idea of handling  _ five  _ small children nearly gave him a heart attack.

“So, I’ll be here around nine,” Brian said. “We make sure the place is spotless. The floor will be so clean that Jer could eat off. The kids aren’t hard to entertain, we’ll put on some cartoons, give them some toys and they’ll be happy. Yeah, she’ll complain anyway, but you know what? If she’s determined to be miserable that’s her decision.”

Jim got up to make more coffee. He nudged Brian fondly as he got up. “Look at you, sounding all wise,” he teased.

“I’m a teacher,” Brian said with a grin. “It’s my job.”

“I thought your job was writing those hour-long guitar solos?” John asked innocently.

“Oh, fuck off, Deacy.”

“Speaking of…” John glanced at his phone, frowning at the time. “I’d better head off.” He grabbed his coat and, despite being the youngest, his frown was downright parental. Then again, he had a lot of practice.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said. “Same goes for Ronnie.”

“We can handle the kids,” Jim said.

“Yeah, but can you handle Jer?”

Well, John had him there.

One last grin and a cheery wave, and John was gone. Brian sighed, shooting Jim a rueful smile.

“Shall we promise to reign each other in if we start to go crazy at her?” Brian asked.

“She’d deserve it,” Jim grumbled. He’d disliked her in college and that had only grown over the years. The same went for Bomi. He didn’t see how you could speak to your own child the way they spoke to Freddie. It always made his blood boil.

And Freddie wasn’t here to act as a buffer.

  
Well,  _ shit,  _ maybe he’d need that whiskey after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up; Jer visits. Roger and Freddie have a heart-to-heart and Mr Fanelli arrives 😉


	5. Chaos Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim stands up to Jer.  
> A certain Mr Fanelli arrives on the scene.  
> Meanwhile, Roger and Freddie have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the chaos begins

Brian, as promised, arrived at nine on the dot. Most of the kids were still asleep, but Maeve and Frank were watching...Jim wasn’t too sure, honestly. Whatever it was, it had a blue cat and a goldfish- Gumball, he thought?- and the kids were entertained.

Honestly, Jim owed Brian and he knew it; it was a lot of young kids and he didn’t doubt poor Brian would be put into an awkward position once Jer arrived. Jim didn’t like her, and he was never entirely sure if Jer liked him (not that he particularly cared); this was sure to end in an argument.

Deacy may have been poking fun last night, but his imitation had been more accurate than he’d realised.

At last, the house was clean, and the kids were clean and fed. The girls all gathered on the sofa to play with their toys; Frank kept watching the strange cartoon. Jack seemed content to be on Brian’s lap.

Just after twelve, Jer arrived.

“Hello, Jim, dear,” she said cheerfully. She removed her coat, which Jim hung by the door for her.

“Hey, Jer,” he said, wincing at the sound of his own fake-cheerful voice.

“Well, dear, how is-” Jer stopped in the living room doorway, blinking in bafflement at the children and Brian. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi, Mrs Bulsara,” Brian said. Jack cooed; Frank didn’t look away from the telly. Violet got quiet and shy, while Alice smiled at her. Maeve waved her Barbie doll and Jer with a grin.

“Hiya, Baa!” she chirped. “I’m playing!”

“I can see that, darling.” Jer still looked utterly baffled. “Um, Jim? May I ask who they all are?”

“They’re Phoebe’s little ones,” Jim said. “I’m looking after them while Phoebe’s on holiday.”

“That’s sweet,” Jer said. She looked around once more and it finally seemed to sink in that Freddie wasn’t in the room. She frowned, hands on her hips. “And where is Farrokh? Honestly, Jim, that boy will be the death of me! He’s been ignoring every call and text I’ve sent him. Surely he’s not _that_ busy? Once or twice I could understand, but it’s been a whole day with no word from him! It’s just disrespectful at this point.”

“Actually…” _Moment of truth._ “Freddie’s with Phoebe and Roger.”

“Pardon, dear?”

“Freddie’s on holiday.”

For a moment, silence reigned. The children played merrily and Frank was now watching Scooby Doo. Brian sank into his seat, already looking like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“What?” Jer asked flatly.

“Freddie’s on holiday,” Jim repeated. “He’s in Spain with the boys for the week.”

_“What!?”_

“Please don’t shout around the kids,” Jim said. He gestured towards the kitchen; Jer stormed ahead of him and Brian closed the door behind them. Jim heard the TV volume get louder.

_Cheers, Bri._

Jim closed the kitchen door and looked at Jer expectantly.

“He _left?_ ” Jer demanded. “For pity’s sake, Jim! That’s completely irresponsible, why didn’t you _stop_ him?”

“Why would I?” Jim challenged, arms folded. He leaned against the wall, knowing full well the casual attitude would just annoy her further. “He deserves a break.”

“He left his baby! You don’t _get a break_ from being a parent! An Omega’s job is to-”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Jim said coldly. “Yeah, being a parent is a full time job; believe it or not, I’m well aware of that. But Freddie deserves a break. He’s the one doing most of the work around here. Everyone needs a holiday sometimes.”

“He’s-”

“An Omega, yes I know. But Jer, need I remind you that we’ve agreed to disagree on those particular points?”

Jer fell silent. She huffed, shrugging impatiently. “So- what? You’re going to look after all those children by yourself?”

“No, actually,” Jim said. “Brian’s gonna help out; same with John and Veronica. We’ve got a little team going.”

“Oh for pity’s sake…” Jer trailed off impatiently, rubbing her forehead. “Well there’s no need for all that trouble. I’ll help.”

Yep, that was what he expected. _Can I call them or what?_ Jim thought. 

“Thanks, Jer, but we’re sorted.”

“I can at least take Maeve off your hands, dear.”

_Oh hell no._

“Thanks, but no,” Jim said, more firmly. “Maeve isn’t to spend the night with you and Bomi, remember?”

“That silly rule of Farrokh’s? Darling, don’t tell me you’re actually humouring that! He was being so silly-”

“I agreed with him,” Jim interrupted. 

For the first time since he’d known her, Jer looked wounded. Not fake-wounded, not the way she turned on the waterworks to manipulate Freddie, but genuinely upset.

“She’s my granddaughter,” Jer said quietly. “I would _never_ hurt her.”

And Jim, who had bitten his tongue for years, stopped holding back.

“Really? Because you have no issues with hurting your son.” He opened the kitchen door. “I think it would be best if you left, Jer.”

Without a word, eyes bright with tears, Jer grabbed her coat off the hook and left.

Already feeling exhausted, Jim rejoined Brian and the kids.

“Baa?” Maeve asked.

“Gone home, baby,” Jim said, ruffling her hair. And he didn’t doubt Bomi would soon be calling to give him hell.

“How’d it go?” Brian asked.

“I think she was genuinely upset,” Jim said. He sighed, slouching in his seat. “What does it say about our relationship that I don’t even feel guilty?”

“That it’s non-existent,” Brian said. “But you didn’t need me to tell you that, mate.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Meanwhile, the boys were enjoying their beach day in Spain. Phoebe had finally turned his phone back on; to his surprise, there were no further calls or texts from Albert. Roger’s theory was that Albert was in too much shock to reply- that, or he was sulking.

“Definitely sulking,” Freddie said.

But Phoebe was doing his best to put all that out of his mind. For now, he was sunbathing with his best friends; Roger was still dripping wet from the ocean, sunglasses on and a content smile on his face.

Freddie, with a frustrated little growl, suddenly sat up straight and tied his hair up into a quick bun. “Bloody, fucking…” He quietened down, muttering more obscenities under his breath.

“You could just cut it, Fred,” Roger suggested.

“I’ve always had long hair,” Freddie said. He looked a little uncomfortable at the suggestion, trying to pin a stray strand into place.

“Yeah, because your parents wouldn’t let you cut it.”

“Hm, you may have a point, darling.” Hair securely in place, Freddie lay back down on his towel. He poked Roger fondly. “And like you can talk, your’s is long too.”

“I’m not sweating buckets thanks to mine,” Roger said with a grin. 

Freddie pursed his lips, closing his eyes and enjoying the sunshine. Still, he wondered if Roger had a point. Whenever he’d wanted a haircut, his parents wouldn’t allow it. If Jer had her way, Freddie’s shoulder-length hair would be longer. 

_Omegas have long hair,_ they’d always said. But Phoebe didn’t have long hair, and Veronica’s was only as long as Freddie’s.

It was something to think about.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Beach days, Roger decided, were a godsend. After a day of sunbathing, swimming and ice-cream, they all felt much more relaxed and ready for a good time. They hadn’t spent the day rushing around, they’d simply relaxed and gotten their energy back.

Back at the hotel, he called home. After chit-chat with Winifred, she passed the phone to Felicity.

“Hi, Daddy!” she said. “Is it pretty over there?”

“Very pretty,” Roger said. “I’ll bring you back something nice, yeah?”

“A tiara.”

Typical of Felicity, really. He bit back a laugh and said, “Sure thing, Flick.” After that it was lots of promises that she was behaving for Winifred and keeping her room clean; she was going to Jim and Freddie’s house tomorrow with Winifred after school.

“That’s good, honey.”

“I’m gonna get them to watch Steven Universe,” Felicity said. “I’m _gonna._ ” It was her latest obsession and, idly, Roger wondered what the chances were of him finding some merchandise over here. Second to none, he was sure.

Still, he’d keep an eye out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The pub was decorated with bright pink and purple neon lights, inside and out. It was reasonably busy, but not packed just yet. Freddie grabbed the nearest drink menu and slid onto the bar stool. 

“Right, darlings, what do we fancy?”

“Sex On The Beach,” Roger said immediately.

“Hm...Think I’ll just stick with a lager for now,” Phoebe said, peering at the list dubiously. 

“And vodka tonic for me!” Freddie said cheerfully. “I’ll get the first round.”

“Anyone else getting souvenirs?” Roger asked. 

“Of course!” Freddie said. He pointed at Roger with his straw. “I’m offended you think I wouldn’t.”

“I’d better find something small for the kids,” Phoebe said. “Granted, they’ll probably lose or break anything I find in a few minutes.”

“That’s kids,” Roger chuckled. 

“Hm, that’s you too,” Freddie teased. Roger nearly shoved him off the stool.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Phoebe loved his friends, but by god did they get giggly and loud when they were drunk. But it was his round, and he was having no luck getting the bar tender’s attention from this end of the bar. 

With a sigh that even he could admit was dramatic, Phoebe hauled himself to his feet and marched down to the opposite end of the bar. It was much busier now and much _much_ louder. He looked at the crowd with a growing sense of dismay; he had the feeling he’d be waiting to order for a while.

No sooner had the thought occurred, than a man in front of him made an impatient noise and turned away from the bar, knocking another, smaller man, straight into Phoebe.

“Aw fuck, sorry, man!” the smaller man said. He grinned up at Phoebe sheepishly; he was a Beta, American judging by the accent. He had short brown hair and glasses, a bright and friendly smile. 

“It’s fine,” Phoebe said with a wave of his hand. “Not your fault, dear.”

The man shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. He held his hand out and said, “I’m Joe.”

Smiling, bemused, Phoebe shook his hand. “Peter,” he said. “Or Phoebe. Whichever.”

Joe looked at him for a moment, arms crossed, smiling faintly. Finally, he spoke.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

For a moment, Phoebe froze. He should say no. He knew he should say no; he should just get the next round and go.

But he was drunk and already feeling more rebellious than he had since he was a teenager.

So he smiled.

“Sure,” Phoebe said. “Why not?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Who’s that with Pheebs?” Roger asked, squinting.

“Hm?” Freddie had to stand on tip-toe to get a glimpse. “Uh- dunno, dearie.”

Roger hummed, still squinting at their friend and the unknown man. “Do I need to fight him?”

“I don’t think so, Rog.”

“Let me know if I do.”

“Of course, darling.”

Roger frowned at the small splashes of drinks on the counter, poking at them with his straw. Abruptly, he said, “What does Brian like?”

“Huh?”

“ _Brian._ What does he _like?_ ”

Freddie thought about it, struggling to arrange his thoughts past the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. “Oh, dear; lots of things. He likes space and, um...Animals! And the environment.”

“He’s so smart.” Roger sounded a strange mix of admiring and mournful. “Like, _so_ fucking smart.”

“He is.” Freddie side-eyed him. Was it finally happening? Were they really going to talk about this?

“I wanna get him a _nice_ present,” Roger said. “A really good one! He deserves a good one. He’s helping look after the kids, you know.”

“I know.”

“He’s so _nice,_ the bastard.”

Freddie smiled. “He is.”

“And he just-” Roger gestured wildly, looking increasingly frustrated. “ _Fuck,_ Fred, you know?”

“I think I do, Roggie, yes.”

Roger sighed, drooping, looking utterly woebegone. “But he’s Flick’s _teacher,_ and that would be _weird,_ and I’m _me_ and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Freddie clapped a hand over Roger’s mouth. “What do you mean you’re you? What’s wrong with that?”

Roger shrugged, making no move to remove Freddie’s hand. Freddie’s eyes narrowed, giving his best Parent Frown as Jim called it.

“You’re brilliant,” Freddie said firmly. “You’re gorgeous and smart and talented, and Brian would be lucky to have you. Oh, don’t give me that luck, dear, it’s obvious to everyone but him! And it’s obvious to everyone but you that he fancies you as well.”

Finally, Roger removed Freddie’s hand. He looked so painfully hopeful that Freddie felt a stab of protective instinct that had nothing to do with the drinks.

“You really think so, Fred?” Roger asked so quietly that Freddie had to strain to hear him.

“I’m sure of it,” Freddie told him, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders. 

“Hm…” Roger’s eyes narrowed as he thought it all over. “You think...Maybe if I get him something nice…”

“It’s always worth a shot,” Freddie said cheerfully.

“So what _does_ Brian like?”

That was something to consider. What would be a good gift; what would be impressive enough to make it obvious that Roger liked Brian?

Suddenly, Roger jumped off his bar stool.

“I have an idea!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, what do we know that Brian likes? 🤔


	6. The Penguin Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes good conversations lead to bad ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are officially entering Hangover level stupidity; do not expect logic 😂
> 
> *insert clip of Benedict Cumberbatch trying and failing to say "penguins" here*

So, here was the thing: Brian liked penguins. Next to badgers, they were his favourite animal and Roger was pretty sure a penguin was more interesting than a badger. 

What better way to say _‘I wanna date you,’_ than a grand gesture?

Bringing a penguin home? _Absolutely_ grand.

Really, Roger didn’t see why Freddie looked so worried.

“It’ll be easy!” Roger said, trapezing down the street. He bumped into a lamp-post and straightened himself. “We just go collect the penguin and bring it to the hotel!”

Freddie frowned, swaying slightly. “Okay, but...Roggie, how do you even take care of a penguin?”

“We’ll look it up on YouTube!”

Freddie seemed to consider this. They were equally smashed, but a part of Freddie’s mind was still clinging to some semblance of logic and self-preservation. He sighed and pulled his phone out.

“I’m going to let Phoebe know where we are,” he said. He called as they walked along, but it rang out, going to voicemail. Following in Roger’s wake, Freddie rattled off their whereabouts; “Hi, Pheebs, we’re- well, we’re going to get a penguin for Brian. We’ll, um, meet you at the hotel, I suppose? Or you could come with us.” He eyed Roger warily; his best friend was loudly singing one of their own songs, arms thrown wide. “Actually, maybe you should come with us, dear, Roger is _really_ drunk…”

For good measure, he texted, _Brb pennguine-nappin_

He squinted at the text, trying to remember if that was the proper spelling. Freddie quickly gave up and sent it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a typical zoo. That was all Freddie could really think past the haze of many _many_ vodka tonics and cocktails rushing through his system. Everything was dark, there was no one around. The walls were...Not as high as he’d expected, honestly.

Roger grinned at him. “Easy-peasy,” he said, clapping Freddie on the shoulder. “I’ll give you a boost up.”

Freddie put his hands on his hips, giving what he hoped was his best sceptical look. It just kind of felt like he was squinting.

“And how will _you_ get up?” he asked.

“I’ll jump, obviously.”

Right. _Obviously._

Freddie really wished he could think of a better idea, but it wasn’t like they had a ladder or any conveniently placed trees. If this was like _Madagascar_ then maybe the animals would just open the gates for them and lead them to the penguins.

He let Roger give him a boost; somehow, despite being hammered, Roger managed to list him and didn’t sway too much, or fall down. Freddie scrambled for the top of the wall and (with more effort than he cared to admit) hauled himself up. 

For a moment, he sat side-saddle on the wall, trying to orientate himself. Okay. He was on the wall. Warily, he peered down at the other side; from up here the drop suddenly looked much higher.

Roger took a running leap at the wall, barely managing to hang on. Freddie gave him a tug and nearly tumbled off himself.

“No, no, I got it!” Roger insisted. He scrambled, he kicked, he grunted in annoyance, going bright red- but he managed to pull himself up so he was sitting next to Freddie. He grinned in triumph, eyes bright, hair tousled.

“Easy-peasy!” he said again. Laughing, he jumped down; he stumbled, windmilling his arms, but he didn’t fall.

“C’mon, Fred!”

Bracing himself, Freddie jumped. He nearly fell flat on his arse, but Roger grabbed him and kept him on his feet.

This was nuts. Freddie _knew_ this was nuts. Fucking hell, this was _illgeal._

But the adrenaline was starting to kick in, that reckless sense of adventure. He’d already climbed over the damn wall, what was the point in turning back now? If nothing else, Freddie supposed this would be the perfect story to prove he wasn’t a boring dad.

Actually, scratch that, Maeve should _never_ know about this. Come to think of it, Jim probably shouldn’t either.

And yet he wished his parents could see this. Their faces would be priceless.

“So, what now?” Freddie asked.

Roger rubbed his hands together like a pantomime villain. “Now, Fredster, we nab ourselves a penguin!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Roger ignored him, running ahead to the nearest map board. Giggling despite himself, Freddie followed.

Okay, they were going to nab a penguin. Why not? It was for love!

  
  
  
  
  
  


Phoebe was enjoying a lovely conversation with Joe Fanelli when he glanced to the left and realised he couldn’t see his friends anymore. Nor could he see them in the crowd around the bar; he couldn’t see them on the dance floor.

“You okay?” Joe asked.

“I can’t see my friends,” Phoebe said, biting his lip. Oh dear, how long had they been talking? Had Roger and Freddie gone back to the hotel? He couldn’t push away the anxious thought that they were hurt.

Joe peered around, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What do they look like?”

“They’re small,” Phoebe said. “Rog has long blonde hair, Freddie’s got black hair- they’re Omegas as well.”

Joe stood on tip-toe; he noticed Phoebe’s increasingly concerned look and frowned. “Do you want a hand looking for them?”

A wave of relief hit him. “Yes, please.”

They wandered all around the bar; the dance floor, the toilets, the smoking area. Phoebe lingered by their stools, hoping they’d appear. Nothing.

He pulled out his phone, intending to text, when he saw a text and voicemail from Freddie.

_Brb pennguine-nappin_

“Pennguine-nappin?” Phoebe murmured. Joe looked as lost as he felt.

“Drunk typos?” Joe suggested.

“There’s a voicemail,” Phoebe said. There was no point in trying to hear it in the loud bar; they went outside, into the street and Phoebe held the phone against his ear.

He swore he felt his brain disconnect from the sheer stupidity as he listened.

_“Hi, Pheebs, we’re- well, we’re going to get a penguin for Brian. We’ll, um, meet you at the hotel, I suppose? Or you could come with us. Actually, maybe you should come with us, dear, Roger is_ really _drunk…”_

In the background, Phoebe could hear Roger singing _Doing Alright._

“I’m going to _kill them,_ ” he growled.

“Did they go back to the hotel?” Joe asked. He looked so sincerely concerned, eyes bright and earnest. The poor man had no idea what he was getting into.

“They’re gone to steal a penguin for- well, for an Alpha that Roger fancies,” Phoebe said, unable to look him in the eye. This was, beyond a doubt, the stupidest thing they’d ever done. Well, no, there was the time Roger scaled a three-storey building for a hook-up with some girl, but that was beside the point! _This_ was blatantly _illegal._

“If you happen to know the quickest way to the zoo, that would be lovely,” Phoebe said. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Joe’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

“A...Penguin,” he repeated limply. He snorted with laughter. “Yeah, I know the way.” His grin widened. “And I’m going with you; it sounds like you could use a hand with this.”

“Seriously?” Phoebe asked. “You- _why?_ ”

“Why not? This is definitely the most interesting thing that’s happened since I got here.” Joe grabbed his hand and began to run with him. “Come on, let’s go find your crazy friends!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It worried Phoebe just how easy it was to scale the wall. It was dark in the zoo, bar some lamplights; the enclosures themselves were all dark. Animals snoozed peacefully. As they tip-toes past the lion den, Phoebe could hear them snoring.

“This is such a bad idea,” Phoebe whispered.

“Probably,” Joe whispered back, cheerful as anything. Maybe he was crazy too. He looked at the map-board and jabbed it with a smile. “Penguins are this way!”

“Penguins are usually inside, aren’t they?” Phoebe asked.

“They usually have an outdoor section too,” Joe said. “But I’m not sure they sleep there.”

Phoebe sighed, tugging on his hair. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie kept trying not to giggle. Now that they were in here, this was _fun._ They kept to the shadows, shushing each other and tip-toeing in the most dramatic fashion. At one point, Freddie saw a security guard in the distance and they had to take a sharp turn to the left, running as fast as they could, while still trying to be silent.

No one caught them. As they approached the penguin enclosure, Freddie clapped his hands over his mouth, giggling hysterically.

Roger looked into the water and pouted in dismay. “Where are they?” he asked, utterly woebegone.

Freddie looked at the tunnel in the faux-rocks. He grinned. “I think they sleep inside, darling,” he said.

Roger clapped his hands and all but skipped to the tunnel. They walked past the eerily empty water, further down the tunnel; sure enough, there was an indoor section and Freddie could see the penguins all asleep on the rocks inside.

The penguins were behind some very thick glass.

But then Roger hissed in glee and grabbed Freddie by the shoulder. He pointed at the door off to the left, nearly hidden in the dark: a thin, black door that read _Staff Only._

“You got a hair-pin?” Roger asked.

Freddie searched through his wallet; credit card, spending-money, loose change and...a hair pin! Freddie handed it to Roger.

“Are you really going to pick the lock?” he asked. Much as he admired Roger’s many skills, he was pretty sure that lock-picking wasn’t one.

Evidently, he was wrong. After a few minutes, Roger opened the door.

The security alarm promptly began to wail.

_“Fuck,”_ they both swore, and high-tailed it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A security alarm went off, high-pitched and ear-piercing. 

Joe looked around frantically, but no one came running at them. “What the fuck?” he asked.

“Roger and Freddie,” Phoebe groaned. He ran ahead, heedless of any security guards, looking for his friends. 

As luck would have it, they came sprinting around the corner and nearly knocked Phoebe over.

“Back off, I know self-defence!” Freddie lied, then realised who it was. “Oh, Phoebe, darling!”

“You’re _idiots,_ ” Phoebe growled. He grabbed them and both and ran back towards the entrance.

“Oh, hey, bar-guy!” Roger said, smiling at Joe. Joe grinned and waved at him as they ran.

“Nice night, fellas?” he asked.

“It’ll be nicer when we’re not running from a zoo,” Phoebe said. They reached the wall; frantically, Phoebe helped Freddie and Roger up and jumped up with ease; Joe followed quickly, leaping off the wall and landing firmly on his feet.

They didn’t wait around; they ran down the street and didn’t stop until they were nearly back at the bar.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They stopped in the street, staring at each other, all of them panting for breath. 

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Phoebe demanded. “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done! You tried to _kidnap_ a _penguin-_ I can’t believe I just said that out loud, _you tried to kidnap a penguin!_ ”

For a moment, Freddie and Roger were silent. Then Roger’s eyes widened and he wailed, “Oh _fuck,_ I didn’t get my penguin!”

Freddie and Joe burst out laughing. Phoebe tried to stay stern, he really did, but the sheer ridiculousness of it did him in. It didn’t hurt that he was still drunk either.

He doubled over laughing; soon enough, Roger joined in, a little uncertainly at first but quickly cackling like the rest of them.

“Promise to never speak of this again?” Freddie asked, batting his eyelashes at Phoebe.

Phoebe smirked, hands on his hips. “Oh, no, Freddie. We’ll be having a long talk about this in the morning, when you’re too hungover to run from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨Penguins✨


	7. Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in which Freddie and Roger find out what they got up to, and properly meet Joe

Freddie awoke to the sound of vomiting. He winced in sympathy, pulling the duvet up over his head in a vain attempt to block out the noise.

_ Poor Roggie. _

Not that Freddie was doing much better. Even with his eyes closed, he felt like he was being spun around and around. He felt dreadfully sweaty and clammy and his stomach lurched alarmingly.

All the symptoms of a bad fever, but no, it was a hangover.

Well, he couldn’t be too surprised.

With great effort, he sat up. Phoebe was still snoring away and-  _ god almighty, there was a person on the floor. _

_ Did we kill him?  _ was Freddie’s first startled thought. He sighed in relief when he saw the unknown man was breathing. Okay, one less thing to worry about. But who  _ was  _ he?

On shaky legs (and feeling rather like a newborn calf) Freddie climbed out of bed and crept across the room. The man was sleeping right under the window. He was vaguely familiar…

_ Oh,  _ Freddie thought. Right. The bar. Phoebe was chatting to some guy...And now said ‘guy’ was in their hotel room.

Okay.

Freddie nudged the guy with his foot. The man snored. Freddie nudged him again. The man rolled over in his sleep.

Sighing, Freddie leaned down and shook him as hard as he could. The man woke up with a startled yelp, nearly headbutting Freddie as he woke up.

“Oh, hey,” the man said, as if it were perfectly normal to wake up on someone else’s floor. (Well, Freddie had been to college; been there, done that. Floors weren’t too unusual). “You’re not dead from alcohol poisoning, eh?”

“Not yet,” Freddie said. “Give me an hour and we’ll see.” He leaned back on his heels, watching the man curiously- and a little warily. “And who are you?”

“Joe Fanelli, nice to meet you.”

“You too, dear. Mind telling me why you’re sleeping on our floor?”

“It was really late when Phoebe and I got you two back here,” Joe said. He winced when the sound of more vomiting reached them. The bathroom door was firmly shut. Freddie was beginning to think he’d have to just vomit out the window at this rate.

“Anyway,” Joe continued. “It was like- three in the morning? I think. So Phoebe said I should crash here.” He patted the floor. “Honestly, it’s quite comfortable.”

“Hm…” Freddie was definitely going to regret asking this. “And what happened last night?”

Joe grinned. “How much do you remember?”

“A lot of cocktails,” Freddie said, grinning despite his pounding head. “And, um…” He frowned, running a hand through his hair. “Something about penguins?”

Joe started to laugh. He reached up and plucked his glasses off the windowsill. “Yep- you and Roger went to steal a penguin. Phoebe said it was for a guy that Roger likes?”

_ Oh fuck. _

Mortified, laughing, Freddie buried his face in his hands. “Oh no, we  _ didn’t. _ ”

“You did.” Joe sounded far too happy about that.

“I need to hear more about this.”

“Oh, you will,” came Phoebe’s sickly-sweet voice. He was sitting up straight, smiling at Freddie with murder in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“Pretty stupid, darling,” Freddie said, still giggling. Joe was grinning like this was the best thing he’d seen in weeks.

“We’ll pay for your breakfast,” Phoebe told him. “It’s the least we can do.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Joe said.

“Darling, you ended up chasing us into a zoo,” Freddie said. “We owe you pancakes at least.”

Roger finally staggered out of the bathroom and collapsed onto his bed. He was pale as death, his golden hair a tangled mess.

“What the fuck did we drink?” he groaned.

“Most of the menu, if I remember right,” Phoebe said. He yawned and stretched. “How much do you remember, Rog?”

“Fuck all.”

“Well, you tried to steal a penguin,” Joe said cheerfully.

“I fucking  _ what? _ ” Roger sat back up, eyes wide. He looked at Joe and peered at him in utter bafflement. After a moment, he nodded decisively and said, “Hi, bar-guy.”

“Hi penguin-guy.”

This was shaping up to be one of the stranger mornings of Freddie’s life.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They got breakfast in a small cafe down the road. Freddie and Roger were in their sunglasses and they both looked utterly miserable. Not to mention they felt as miserable as they looked.

Despite his own hangover, Joe ate a plateful of pancakes and had two cups of coffee. Phoebe had a sandwich and tea, watching Freddie and Roger like a mother getting ready to scold.

Roger envied them. He’d had some toast and was immediately fighting to keep it down.

“So we really tried to steal a penguin?” Freddie asked. “You’re not just winding us up?”

In response, Phoebe handed over his phone. “Listen to the voice message.”

They did.

Roger burst out laughing, slapping the table.

“That’s hilarious!”

“That’s  _ illegal,  _ Roger.”

“Lighten up, Pheebs, you know it’s funny.”

“It’s a good ice-breaker,” Joe said with a shrug. “How many people go to Barcelona and try to steal a  _ penguin  _ of all things?”

“Apparently these two idiots,” Phoebe said flatly.

Freddie gave his best innocent smile. Given his pallor and obvious hangover, it wasn’t up to much.

Phoebe glared at him. Freddie just kept smiling.

“Well that was the most fun I’ve had since I got here,” Joe said. Phoebe slapped his arm.

“Don’t  _ encourage  _ them!”

“You watch, Phoebe,” Roger said, pointing at him. He pushed his sunglasses up and his grin widened. “You’ll do something bat-shit sooner or later, I guarantee.”

“Not happening.”

Freddie and Roger looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Together, they turned back to Phoebe.

“It’ll happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we check in with the gang back in England 😊


	8. Standing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie stands up to Jer and checks in with Maeve. Back in England, the gang take the chance to vent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Freddie has had enough to Jer's shit

When Freddie pulled out his phone to call Jim, he saw two more messages from Jer. Short, curt messages.

_Call me_ the first one read, and the second only said _Now._

He rolled his eyes, braced himself and called. He was leaning against the wall while Joe and Roger ordered them all ice cream. Joe was an unexpected addition to their little group, but a welcome one. He seemed to take chaos in its stride, so he was definitely Freddie’s kind of person.

Jer answered on the second ring.

“Farrokh Bulsara, what in the blazes are you thinking!?” she immediately shrieked. Phoebe gave the phone a startled glance, so Freddie didn’t doubt he’d heard that loud and clear.

Freddie was still hungover and absolutely _not in the mood._

“I think I’m having a good time,” he said flatly.

“You _left_ your daughter,” Jer snapped.

“I’m only gonna be gone for a week,” Freddie said. “I’m hardly abandoning her.”

“You can’t just walk away from being a parent! For pity’s sake, Farrokh, you’re an _Omega._ You’re not a child anymore, you should know your place by now- and your place is at _home._ What will Maeve be thinking? Did you even think about her?”

Maybe it was because he was hungover. Maybe it was the safe distance of an ocean between them; heck, maybe it was because he’d tried to help steal a penguin last night, but Freddie wasn’t frightened of her right now.

All he knew was that he was suddenly suffused with _absolute rage._

He was a good parent. He would not let _Jer_ tell him otherwise.

Phoebe was watching him in concern. His friend took his free hand and Freddie stood as tall as he could.

“I will not,” Freddie hissed. “Take parenting advice from the likes of _you._ ”

“And _what_ is that supposed to mean, young man?”

“It means you’re a shit mother,” Freddie said bluntly. Years of pent up resentment burst forth. “Oh, you’re a good mother to Kashmira and I don’t begrudge her that, but you _never_ took care of me. You ignored me until you wanted something from me. Papa shouts and threatens, or pretends I’m not there. Hell, when was the last time you said anything _nice_ to me!?”

There was a stunned silence. Jer took a deep breath.

“Farrokh Bulsara,” she said slowly. “Do not speak to me like that.”

“My name is _Freddie Hutton,_ ” Freddie snarled. “Either call me by the right name, or don’t call me at all.”

“Farrokh-”

_“Oh, fuck off.”_

He hung up. She immediately rang back. He hung up again.

She rang back again. He hung up and muted all notifications from her.

“Wow, Fred,” Phoebe whispered.

“Fuck her,” Freddie snarled. “I am _not_ a bad parent and I won’t let her tell me otherwise.”

“You’re the best,” Phoebe said. “Maeve adores you.”

And Freddie adored her. For god’s sake, a short holiday hardly made him a dreadful parent!

Roger and Joe trotted over with the ice creams. Joe’s face creased in concern as he looked at them.

“Something happen?” Joe asked.

“Freddie told his mum to fuck off,” Phoebe said.

_“What!?”_ Roger cried. He nearly dropped the ice cream. “And I missed that, are you fucking kidding me?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The phone rang. Jim jumped up to answer.

“Hi, darling,” came Freddie’s voice on the end of the line. “Heads up, my mother’s likely going to ring and try give you hell.”

“Doubt it,” Jim said cheerfully. “She’s been ignoring me since I snapped.” He paused. “Why? What happened?”

“I told her to fuck off.”

Jim exhaled sharply. “Damn,” he said. “That’s- Fred, honey, that’s _big._ ” He couldn’t help but smile. “Good for you.”

“I think it’s the hangover,” Freddie said with a shaky little laugh. “Is Maeve there?”

“I’ll fetch her.” He went back to the living room; Maeve was playing with the other girls, and Felicity was due with Winifred in about twenty minutes.

“Maevie-baby,” he called. “Papa’s on the phone.”

Maeve immediately ran to his side, trying to reach up and snatch the phone. “Papa!” she cheered.

Jim knelt down and put the phone on speaker.

“Hi, Papa!” Maeve said happily. “It’s me!”

“Hi, darling,” Freddie said. He sounded a little shaky. “Having fun?”

“Lots,” Maeve said. “We’re playing Barbies.” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, Frank’s playing as Ken, he won’t play with Barbie. And Jack’s napping.”

“Well, Jack’s very little, darling, he’s gonna nap more than you.”

“Lazy,” Maeve tutted. “Is it pretty over there?”

“Very pretty, Maevie; lots of sunshine.”

“Aw,” Maeve said, pouting. “It’s raining.”

“What else is new?” Jim laughed. He ruffled her hair; she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You gonna swim?” Maeve asked Freddie.

“Lots,” Freddie promised her. “I’ll take you swimming when I get back, okay?”

“‘Kay!”

Jim thought Freddie still sounded a little off when he said, “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jim knew Freddie wouldn’t want him sharing Freddie’s business, so he told their friends about his own argument with Jer instead.

Winifred shook her head, lips pursed. “Well, I can’t say she doesn’t deserve it,” she said. “I can’t stand how she talks to Freddie.” A little warily, she added, “Oh dear, don’t tell her I said that.”

“Of course,” Jim said.

“It’s daft,” Veronica said. She looked terribly grumpy as she munched on one of the cookies she’d brought. “We’re Omegas, not robots; we need breaks too.”

“And Albert?” John asked. “Any trouble from him?”

“He hasn’t even checked in,” Jim said in disgust. He glanced at Brian. “Unless he’s contacted you?”

“The hell he has,” Brian scoffed. “Not a damn word.”

“Phoebe deserves better,” Veronica said firmly, as if daring them to argue. On the contrary, they all nodded. Brian even raised his cup of tea and said, “Hear, hear!”

“I hope they have a good time,” Winifred said. “Roger’s been having such a tough time at work.”

“His co-workers are still being dic- er, jerks?” John asked. “He won’t talk about it much.”

Brian instantly growled.

Winifred nodded sadly. “I don’t see how Roger being a single parent is any of their business,” she said primly. “They ought to keep their noses out of it.”

“Too right,” Brian snapped. “Judgemental pricks, the lot of them.”

John caught Jim’s eye and smiled. Jim nodded, taking another of Veronica’s cookies.

No doubt about it, Roger and Brian were utterly gone on each other. It was just a matter of waiting for the two of them to realise that as well.

Jim’s phone buzzed; a text from Freddie, a photo. It was a selfie of Freddie and Roger, sticking their tongues out; their sunglasses were pushed up into their hair. In the background, Phoebe was doing his best to avoid the camera, but hadn’t quite ducked out of the way in time.

Jim smiled. No matter what some people insisted, their Omegas deserved to have a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The group loves their Omegas  
> Up next, the boys have a chill day at the museums


	9. A Quiet Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get to know Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter, a bit of filler before the chaos begins again 😁

After all the crap the night before, Roger had to admit that they owed Phoebe and Joe big time; which was how they found themselves all trooping to the nearest museum.

It promised to be a long day of museums and art galleries. With Roger’s pounding head, he relished the idea of some quiet. A nice, slow-paced day to get his energy back up.

Besides, the art _was_ gorgeous, though he didn’t recognise a lot of it. Freddie was the art expert, not him. To each their own and all that.

There was _a lot_ of Picasso. Admittedly, Roger had never quite seen the appeal of the guy, but Phoebe walked along at a leisurely place, peering at each piece curiously while Freddie rattled off facts.

Joe looked at a painting of a face (at least Roger was pretty sure it was a face, if a bright green and rather ugly one) and shook his head in bafflement.

“The things some people come up with,” he said.

“Never seen why people make a fuss about him myself,” Roger admitted.

Freddie heard and stuck his tongue out at them over his shoulder. “He’s _creative,_ you pair of bores,” he said.

Roger shrugged, following in their wake. He paused by a painting of a woman ill in bed. A nun held a child- presumably the woman’s son- while a man checked the woman’s pulse. 

On second glance, Roger wasn’t too sure if the woman was ill or _dead._

_Yikes._ It was brilliantly done, don't get him wrong, but it wasn't exactly a cheerful scene now was it?

The artist took him by surprise.

“ _That’s_ Picasso?” he asked, reading the nameplate. “Huh. I thought he just did the weird stuff.”

“He didn’t start out that way,” Freddie said. He was using his _Art Student_ voice, no doubt armed with plenty of facts. “He was only fifteen when he painted this one. This one’s more realistic.” He looked at the painting as he spoke. “It was a common sight back then, a common occurrence.” 

_“Fifteen?”_ Phoebe echoed. “It’s amazing.”

Joe looked at the woman’s greyish pallor and lingered on the child. He winced and said, “Realistic and downright depressing.”

“That’s life,” Freddie said with a shrug. He linked arms with Phoebe, looking much less hung-over, and led the way into the next room.

Roger kept pace with Joe. The museum was pretty busy but, as was the way with museums, it wasn't loud. He was grateful for that, honestly. Still, his headache was slowly passing and his stomach had long since stopped churning.

With his mind clear, it was time to interrogate their new friend.

“So, are you here on your own?” he asked.

“Yep,” Joe said. “Needed a break from work.” The mere mention of work had him looking tired. “It’s been hectic lately, I don’t have time to breathe.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a chef,” Joe said with an easy-going smile. “I love it, don’t get me wrong. But my boss? He’s an asshole. Honestly, I’m close to handing in my notice, I can’t stand the guy. The restaurant’s been shit since he took over.”

“I know the feeling,” Roger said. “Shitty bosses can ruin a place fast.”

“Take it you guys needed a break too?” Joe asked. “Phoebe mentioned you’ve all been stressed.”

“Understatement of the fucking century, mate,” Roger laughed. “Life’s shit sometimes when you’re an Omega.”

“Hm…” Joe pulled out his water bottle and gulped some down. He wiped his mouth and passed the bottle to Roger, who took it gratefully. A nice airy museum was good, but water was better.

“Fuck the system, eh?” Joe asked.

Roger nodded. “Fuck the system.” He passed the bottle back to Joe. “Wanna hang out with us tomorrow?”

“Really?” Joe asked; he looked hopeful, but shy about it. “You’re sure?”

“Definitely,” Roger grinned. “Maybe next time we’ll _actually_ steal a penguin.”

Joe laughed, head thrown back. “I’ll hold you to that one, Roger.”

“Lads!” Roger called. “Joe’s hanging out with us tomorrow!”

“Oh, lovely!” Freddie beamed. “The more the merrier.”

He saw Phoebe’s eyes light up. Their friend smiled at Joe and- hold up. Roger’s eyes narrowed; why was Phoebe _blushing?_

It was like a lightbulb flashing to life.

_Ah,_ he thought.

Roger knew it was stupid; he knew Phoebe fancying Joe wouldn’t end well. Granted, he also didn’t think Phoebe would do anything about it. Albert was an asshole, a right bastard, but Phoebe took those damn marriage vows _seriously,_ for some god forsaken reason.

But Joe was grinning at Phoebe and Roger barely bit back a sigh.

He _so_ didn’t want to be the responsible one, but he had the sinking feeling he’d have to keep an eye on them.

It wasn’t that Roger gave a flying fuck about Albert; no, he worried about Phoebe spiralling and beating himself up.

  
 _Pity,_ he thought, watching as Joe cracked a joke that had Phoebe giggling and ducking his head. _Joe seems like a great guy too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting the boys are looking at is "Science And Charity"
> 
> Updates are likely gonna be a bit slower for a while; I'm getting a new dog who's due to come home on Wednesday! Gonna be busy looking after him 💕


	10. Haircuts (How To Rebel Against Your Parents)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Freddie has some thoughts about Joe and Phoebe and decides to enact some good old fashioned rebellion

Freddie watched Joe and Phoebe curiously. He wasn’t stupid; he saw the way they kept smiling at each other and laughing together.

It wasn’t as if Freddie thought Albert was any good for Phoebe, it was more so that he knew Phoebe would be kicking himself and go into an anxious spiral if he and Joe did anything.

_Fuck Albert,_ Freddie thought, watching them. The fucker had been holding Phoebe back since they were seventeen. It had only gotten worse over the years. 

Phoebe deserved happiness. Phoebe deserved love.

And Phoebe deserved to not hate himself.

Phoebe shouldn’t give a flying fuck what Albert thought or felt. It wasn’t as if Albert cared about _Phoebe’s_ feelings.

All the same, Freddie couldn’t quite bring himself to say _Go for it._ At the end of the day, he knew Phoebe too well.

That didn’t mean he had to like the situation, which really was unfair because Joe seemed so _lovely._ Freddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone make Phoebe smile like that.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when Phoebe turned to Joe in the afternoon and said “Would you like to meet up with us later in the week as well?”

Nor was Freddie surprised when Joe heartily agreed and gave Phoebe his number.

Freddie caught Roger’s eyes. Roger was staring too, expression unreadable.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a quiet day, just what they needed. After the museum, they went to lunch (thankfully their hangovers were long gone) and mutually agreed to retire early. Joe walked with them to their hotel.

“I’ll see you later,” he said. There were brief hugs, pats on the back and then he was on his way, giving one last cheery wave over his shoulder.

“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Phoebe said.

“He is,” Roger agreed, with that unreadable look still on his face.

Freddie agreed, of course he did; honestly, Joe fit right in. He was funny and sweet and clearly up for anything. Freddie _wanted_ to hang out with him again.

He bit his lip, smiled and nodded. It was only a day, it was probably far too early to be warning Phoebe off of anything. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe it was the lack of sleep.

Still…

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie woke up early, which wasn’t like him at all. The sun was shining through the thin curtains; Roger and Phoebe were still sleeping.

He glanced at his phone; it was seven in the morning, and he had plenty of (muted) notifications from Jer and Bomi. He didn’t open any of them, but he could see plenty of messages starting with _“You should be ashamed…”_

_No,_ he thought furiously. _I shouldn’t._ They _should._

They probably never would, but that was their issue, not his. He’d put up with them all his life; their insults, their favouritism, their condescending attitudes and dismissal. They either brushed him aside or they were poking their noses in his business and trying to take over, there was no in between.

They’d stressed him out so badly when he was expecting Maeve.

Freddie was determined to be proud of who he was, but they sometimes made him truly _hate_ being an Omega.

_“Good Omegas don’t wear that.”_

_“Omegas should be seen and not heard.”_

_“Farrokh, don’t sit like that, it’s unbecoming of an Omega.”_

_“Now, now, dear, let the Alphas talk.”_

_“Omegas have long hair.”_

_“Omegas don’t belong on a stage, they belong at home.”_

No one, absolutely _no one_ got to accuse him of not thinking about Maeve. This, right here, was the hill Freddie was willing to die on. As soon as Jer brought his baby into it, she’d crossed a line that couldn’t be overlooked, or ignored. He couldn’t justify it or explain it away.

He was _not_ a bad father.

He shut down every notification and sat up in his bed, running a hand through his long hair. It was tangled and, thanks to the heat, sticking to the back of his neck.

Freddie was sick of it.

He glanced at his sleeping friends and grabbed his wallet, quickly pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. 

Maybe he couldn’t get on a stage yet, but he knew one thing he could take control of.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Over an hour later, Freddie left the barber’s with a spring in his step. His hair curled about his face, still curly and fluffing out in places, but much shorter. His previously shoulder-length hair now barely reached past his chin.

And he loved it. No more hair ties or clips, no more pins, no more of his hair bothering him in the heat or being an absolute mess in the morning.

For the first time ever, Freddie felt that he looked like _himself._

He couldn’t wait to see Jim’s reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, tattoos 😉


	11. The Trouble With Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim vs Bomi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know said "up next, tattoos," but Jim sort of took over from me 😂

Jim knew Freddie liked lie-ins, even on holiday, so he wasn’t expecting a text so early.

It was a selfie, just Freddie. To be specific, it was Freddie with his hair freshly cut and styled. It was easily the shortest Jim had ever seen him wear it.

He immediately texted back,  _ Looking good! _

Almost as soon as he sent it, Freddie rang him.

“It looks great, Fred,” Jim said, before Freddie could say anything.

There was a slight pause before Freddie said, almost shyly, “You think so?”

“I do,” Jim said. “You look fantastic.” He smiled and added, “You look happier. Well-rested.”

“Hardly well-rested!” Freddie laughed. “You should have seen the hangovers yesterday!”

Jim chuckled, stretching out on the bed. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

“As if you’d be any better.”

Well, Freddie had him there.

“What brought it on?” Jim asked. He swore he could hear Freddie shrug.

“I was sick of it,” he said. “I only kept it so long because of Mama and Papa- and I’ve certainly had enough of them.”

Considering the shit Jer had spewed, Jim couldn’t blame him. He was sick of them too- granted, that implied he’d ever had patience for them in the first place. 

“You and me both, love,” Jim said. “You and me both.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They were due to meet Winifred and Felicity, John, Veronica and the Deaclings in the park, along with Brian who once more stepped up to the plate. There was radio silence from Albert, a fact that continued to piss Jim off. How could you just drop your kids off and not check in on them even once?

As he and Brian were herding the kids to their cars, Jim’s phone rang.

_ Bomi. _

Sighing heavily, Jim answered it.

“Hello-”

“You need to reign that Omega of yours in,” Bomi snapped. “Do you have any idea what he said to his mother!?”

“Oh, are we doing this now?” Jim asked mildly. He was quite proud of how calm he sounded, honestly.

“He was completely out of line, Jim! He  _ swore  _ at her, he-”

“Put her in her place,” Jim interrupted. “Bomi, if you think I’m on your side, then I don’t know where you’ve been the past eight years. You always made it plain we’re not friends, so let me remind you of that now.”

“He did not put her in her place, she was trying to remind him of his!” Bomi said, his voice raising. “He has no right to speak to his mother that way, and you’ve no right to speak to me like this way either!”

“Then I’ll do you a favour,” Jim said, glancing towards the car; Maeve, holding Brian’s hand, was starting to look worried. “You don’t have to speak with me. Until you and Jer are ready to acknowledge what you’ve done wrong, kindly leave us alone.”

He hung up and immediately put his phone on silent. There was no point in turning it off just yet, off in case Freddie needed to reach him, but he certainly didn’t want to listen to the incessant buzzing and beeping if Jer and Bomi continued to bother him.

Jim seriously doubted they’d acknowledge what they’d done over the years. They never had before- and yet maybe this would be the kick up the arse they needed?

Optimism was more so Veronica’s thing than his. Jim joined Brian and the kids, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Okay?” Brian asked quietly.

“In laws,” Jim said simply. Brian winced, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Jim would never understand them. How could they think their treatment of Freddie was okay? How could they constantly insult him and expect utter loyalty and submission from their son? 

No, Jim was not on their side; he never had been and never woud be. He was firmly on Freddie’s side.

And he was on Maeve’s side, because there was no way Jim was going to let them pour that toxic bullshit in his little girl’s ear.

He got Maeve buckled into her booster-seat and ruffled her hair.

“Ready to have some fun, Maevie-baby?” he asked.

“Wanna swing!” Maeve said eagerly. It set the others off clammoring; they wanted to swing, to slide, to feed the ducks.

Fine by Jim. They deserved a nice day out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


John’s eyebrows rose in surprise as Jim finished his explanation. “Good for you,” he said. “It was a long time coming.”

“Well, I can’t say they didn’t deserve a good dressing down,” Winifred said.

Jim could think of plenty of people that deserved  _ “a good dressing down.” _ Jer and Bomi, Albert, Roger’s arsehole colleagues; everyone he’d ever met who thought Omegas were lesser. Anyone who tried to uphold the shitty system that said Omegas were on the bottom of the food chain. 

“It’s good of you,” Veronica said with a shy smile. “To stick up for Fred like that.”

“I’m his husband,” Jim said simply. “I’m on his side.” He paused, watching the kids. Maeve’s laughter was high-pitched and utterly joyful. “And I’m on Maeve’s side. I don’t want her to grow up thinking that behaviour is okay. If they treat their son like that, what’s to stop them from treating their granddaughter that way too?”

“You’re right,” Brian said. 

“It’s simple, dear,” Winifred said. “ _ You _ stop them. You and Freddie.”

It may have been the product of years of resentment boiling over at last, but Jim was glad he’d done it. It was about time.

If Jer and Bomi expected to get away with it this time, they’d be sorely disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, we're back to our regularly scheduled chaos


	12. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger have a chat, and the group make their plans for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pushing Brian and Roger together* Now kiss

Freddie was steadfastly ignoring any notifications he spotted from his parents, shutting them off and putting them out of mind. He was here to have fun, not obsess over their opinions. 

He still had a few days here and he intended to make the most of it. Maybe a storm was waiting for him in England, but he didn’t care.

Freddie was done with worrying about them. He was done with  _ them,  _ period.

He tried to ignore the little voice inside that hissed he’d made such promises to himself before and he’d always caved in the past. This time was different. This time, they’d brought Maeve into it.

Freddie was, despite what his parents seemed to think, a grown adult. A husband and father. And yes, he was an Omega. But so what?

So what indeed.

Freddie put his phone away, his anxiety fading away. He had another glorious, sunny day to look forward to with his friends.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Calling Albert was a big fat disappointment, but Brian saw that coming a mile away.

“The kids are doing well,” Brian told him. 

“Alright then,” Albert said. With that, he hung up. No questions on how each child was doing, what they were up to,  _ nothing.  _ He didn’t even ask to speak with the older kids, he didn’t ask about baby Jack.

Brian hated him, but that was nothing new.

“The day Phoebe divorces him,” he told Jim. “I’ll break out the good beer and we’ll throw a party.”

“I’ve a six-pack of Guinness with my name on it when the day comes,” Jim said, getting Alice and Maeve dressed.

Brian knew it was more a matter of  _ if,  _ not  _ when.  _ Still, he’d continue to hope that his friend would realise he deserved better than that utter pig of an Alpha. Frankly, people like Albert made Brian ashamed to be an Alpha in the first place.

Maybe one day Phoebe would finally walk away.

For now though, Brian called Roger.

“Hey,” Brian said. “I, uh- just thought you might want an update on Felicity?”

As usual, Roger’s voice brought a smile to his face; “As Flick’s teacher or as my friend?”

“Both.”

Roger laughed. “Lay it on me. If she’s misbehaving I have everything to do with it.”

“You’re awful,” Brian told him fondly. “But in terms of homework and schoolwork she’s doing well, like usual.”

“Ah, she’s always been clever,” Roger said, his voice softening the way it always did when his daughter was mentioned. “And outside school?”

“Being a little trooper about all the other kids,” Brian said. “I think she fancies herself as a little leader to them.”

Roger laughed, the line crackling slightly as he did and Brian’s smile grew.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds like her,” Roger said, still chuckling. “She’s okay then?”

“She’s okay,” Brian confirmed.

“And you guys? I-  _ we _ owe you big time.”

“Hardly,” he said. “You’re my friend.” Hastily, he added, “You’re  _ all _ my friends.”

“Well…” Roger trailed off. He sounded his usual stubborn self when he spoke up again; “I’ll bring you back something nice.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Joe met them outside their hotel. It was a day for sightseeing this time; he wore a bright floral shirt, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He beamed when he saw them.

“Hey,” he said. “So what’s the plan exactly?”

Phoebe, always the mother of the group, began to rattle off the list of proposed sights to visit, along with some places for lunch that had been suggested by the hotel’s receptionist. After all that, they planned on hitting the clubs again.

“Shall we try to steal another penguin?” Joe asked with a teasing grin.

Roger smirked, but Phoebe only said, “Spare me.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying again,” Freddie said, nudging Phoebe’s arm. “We can dress like Indiana Jones this time.”

If Joe was at all surprised by Freddie’s drastic change in hairstyle he didn’t show it. He just smiled and said, “I like the hair, Fred.”

“Thanks, darling,” Freddie said. “My parents will hate it.”

“Then all the more reason to love it,” Joe laughed. “Let’s get going!”

It was a gorgeous, sunny day. They cracked jokes and swapped stories about college as they walked along; they bought more ice-cream, each of them with water bottles shoved in their bags.

It was a good day, albeit a busy one. Plenty of photos were taken, each of them rang home; Joe to check in with his parents, Freddie to speak with Jim and Maeve, Phoebe to check on the kids and Roger called Winifred and spoke with Felicity. They had a lovely lunch in one of the suggested restaurants. 

All in all, it was a lovely day. The type of fun day out you’d expect from a holiday.

As usual,  _ shit hit the fan _ once they hit the clubs. They all woke up with absolutely banging hangovers.

Joe and Roger also woke up with some  _ additions.  _

Once Roger realised why his side hurt, and Joe saw why his arm hurt, they both swore loudly enough that they woke up the people in the next room.

(At least Freddie got a laugh out of it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe, Roger, what did you do? 👀👀
> 
> Up next, tattoos 😉

**Author's Note:**

> This is just gonna be a full on Hangover style story; it'll touch on heavy topics, but overall the boys are here to have fun, de-stress and work on their confidence


End file.
